


Rose Petals & Glass Shards

by wraithsonwings



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Breakfast, Finger Sucking, First Kiss, Food as a Metaphor for Love, Kissing, M/M, POV Will Graham, Romance, Season/Series 02, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-10
Updated: 2018-02-10
Packaged: 2019-03-16 11:01:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13634952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wraithsonwings/pseuds/wraithsonwings
Summary: Set postKo No Mono.The morning after the ortolan dinner, and Hannibal's invited Will for a special breakfast.





	Rose Petals & Glass Shards

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ThisIsMyDesignHannibal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThisIsMyDesignHannibal/gifts).



> Happy Belated Birthday, hun!
> 
>  
> 
> Many, many thanks to my beta [fragile-teacup](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Mrs_Gene_Hunt/pseuds/fragile-teacup) and [purefoysgirl](http://archiveofourown.org/users/purefoysgirl/pseuds/purefoysgirl) for the beautiful header/collage.

 

When Will trod softly into Hannibal’s kitchen, he was warmed by the sunlight shining through the windows. It was strange somehow, as they usually met in darker hours, and he couldn’t help but smile. Hannibal stood working at the sink, the sleeves of his dark robe pushed past his elbows, his sleep-tousled hair kissed by the sun. Will caught his fraction of a pause, the sudden stillness in his shoulders, and schooled his features.

 

“Good morning, Will.” Hannibal turned, drying his hands on a tea towel. “I wasn’t expecting you so early.”

 

“Sorry. I was just feeling a touch out of sorts this morning, from the very moment I woke. Next thing I knew I was in the car.”

 

“I hope everything is alright?”

 

“I’m fine. I thought about turning back but I just felt as though I should be here? I can’t explain it. It’s the ghost of a feeling in the recesses of my mind, lurking since my confession at dinner last night.” He took a deep breath. “So here I am. Is there any way I can help?”

 

“If you would, grab the clotted cream from the fridge?”

 

Will crossed to pull open the stainless steel door.

 

“Middle shelf, glass bowl, blue lid.”

 

Will spotted it near the back and carefully pulled it out.

 

“Did you make this?”

 

“Of course.”

 

_Of course._

 

Will closed the fridge and walked around the island, placing the cream next to a couple of side plates. They were white, trimmed in rose gold. Matching cutlery sat beside them and Will picked up the delicate teaspoon for a closer look. He glanced to his left, where Hannibal stood near the end of the counter watching intently. Will felt exposed, his flank to the beast. He returned the spoon to its resting place and faced Hannibal, who stepped closer. He held something in his hand.

 

“Rose petal jam.”

 

Hannibal held the jar toward him. It shone pink in the light from the window.

 

“For the fresh scones in the oven. I thought it appropriate in honour of the day.”

 

“The day?”

 

“Valentine’s.”

 

“Oh…”

 

“I got the petals from my _Rosa canina_ last spring.” He carried on. “It was a truly magnificent bloom and I didn’t want them to go to waste.” The seal broke with a pop as Hannibal unscrewed the lid. “The monks of San Lazzaro are known for their rose petal jam. I made a trip to the island monastery when I visited Venice as a young man.” Pausing, he raised it to his nose. “It took me nearly a day of reverse engineering to devise a suitable recipe; adjusted, naturally, for a different subspecies of rose.”

 

“Seems extravagant. I’ve never had a floral jam before. May I?”

 

Will held out a hand and Hannibal passed the jar to him with a soft smile. Will took a closer look. There were beautiful roses etched into the glass.

 

_Of course._

 

It was heavy despite its delicate appearance, with a wide rim. Will tucked it beneath his nose for a slow scenting. _Roses, sugar._ No real surprises, except that Will’s mouth actually watered. He should have learned by now that everything Hannibal prepared was delicious.

 

“Very nice. Thank you.”

 

He handed back the jar. Hannibal watched him silently, head cocked.

 

“Would you care to try it?”

 

“Please.”

 

Hannibal dipped two fingers into the jar, scooping up pink jelly, and stepped toward Will. Will merely arched one brow and waited. His heart skipped a beat when Hannibal touched his fingers to Will’s lips. Will let him in, let him press against his tongue. It was a dangerous touch, one felt too deeply, yet he sucked him in further.

 

The jam was slick, not too strange, sweet; the rose flavour subtle, delicate like the petals from where it came. But unlike fruit, the rose spoke of something. It was romantic, elevating a simple meal to an elaborate statement.

 

_Dog roses saved for Will._

 

Sealed away in a simpler time, before betrayal, they spoke of genuine care. They whispered of salvation. Flowers kept from decay, preserved through an act of transformation. But it was a metamorphosis that highlighted the very best traits, deepening the luscious aroma of the flower, past mere fragrance to sublime taste.

 

Will dragged his tongue along the pads of those fingers again. He imagined the feel of each ridge, each whorl. It felt as though Hannibal could leave his unique mark here, inside Will’s mouth.

 

_Perhaps deeper?_

 

_No._

 

Hannibal had already made a mark on Will’s thoughts, rooted deep where Will was unable to parse it free. It made sense that he would also leave one on Will’s  words. Hannibal would surely reach into Will’s depths to bring forth the best of him, the best as only he saw it, and with his hands expose the beauty of Will’s darkness. Will’s heart raced.

 

As Hannibal pulled his fingers free, Will dragged his teeth along them, reluctant to let them go. Hannibal froze, his fingers hovering, and stared at Will’s lips. Will could almost feel the heat of that gaze. A quick flick of tongue to defend himself, and Will tasted the last of the gift. Hannibal swallowed.

 

“Won’t you have a taste, Hannibal?”

 

A hint of a start in Hannibal’s eyes and he snapped his gaze to the jam in his hand. Dipping his fingers into the mouth of the jar once more, he indulged a moment and took a dollop, pinching it between thumb and fingers in small circles. Hannibal brought half-lidded eyes to meet Will’s, ensnaring Will’s entire being. Will watched those beautiful fingers, now pink and shining, slip between wet lips. Hannibal purred as he sucked them in. His throat moved in a hard swallow and he pulled them free with a soft smack. Will could feel it echo deep inside.

 

Hannibal stepped into Will’s space. Will planted his feet slightly wider. He held his ground, raising his chin as Hannibal took it in hand. Hannibal dragged his sticky thumb across Will’s lips and, cradling the side of Will’s face, leaned in to press their mouths together.

 

It was a gentle kiss at first, chaste, the barest brush of lips. Hannibal pressed softly against him, warm. He kissed Will again, harder, lips parted. A gentle tongue brushed Will’s lower lip and he opened with a slight gasp. The hand over Will’s ear held him close, steadying, with fingers cradling his head and the thumb softly stroking his cheek. He returned to tease Will’s bottom lip, a gentle suck, and then to rest against his Cupid’s bow. Hannibal’s breath was warm. Will’s mouth parted more and he tilted up, melding them.

 

_A perfect fit._

 

The light touch of the tip of Will’s tongue was an invitation that Hannibal accepted. With the warmth of his invasion came the roses with their sweetness and their implications, heavy with a promise Will wasn’t sure he could keep.

 

Will fought the only way he could. He tasted Hannibal’s tongue; he warred with it. They both warred, and the sounds they made fell somewhere between pain and satisfaction. Will won.

 

_Hannibal surrendered?_

 

Will forced his way in, plunged into the depths of the serpent’s mouth...

 

_… and how sweet it was._

 

He clutched at Hannibal's robe, yanking the soft folds of cloth, pulling him close.

 

_Pushing him away?_

 

Glass shattered at their feet. The scent of roses, the sweetness of sugar hanging in the air as they stared into the depths of each others’ eyes, every one of their heavy breaths loud in the stark quiet. Will saw a hunger mirrored there. It shone in Hannibal’s wide pupils before he dropped his gaze.

 

“I’ll get the broom.”

 

He brushed past Will, leaving the kitchen empty, leaving Will empty, as he had only turned and Hannibal was gone. Feeling a cool stickiness on one flushed cheek, he wiped a thumb along it.

 

_Jam._

 

He sucked his thumb into his mouth, with one last thought of Hannibal's fingers hot on his tongue. The taste of rose forever bound to the taste of Hannibal’s mouth. Will let his eyes flutter shut, let his thumb slip from his mouth, and sighed. Turning his attention to the mess on the floor, he knelt carefully to collect the largest shards of glass, to gather the pieces of salvation now dashed at his feet.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Based on this prompt:
> 
>  
> 
> _“Hannibal makes jam and has Will taste it right from his fingers.....”_
> 
>  
> 
>  
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> * * *
> 
> Thank you for reading, and any kudos or comments!
> 
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> 
> Join me on [Tumblr](https://wraithsonwingsposts.tumblr.com/).


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